Pages

Thursday, January 06, 2011

It’s True What They Say

…and when I open my eyes I see what a perfect shot, the arrow stuck in the side of my neck, a fountain of blood sinking the snow like maple sap, and Dave barrels through underbrush, his breath heaves white clouds, he’s lost his hat, there’s a bald spot in back I’d never noticed because even though he’s my little brother he’s five inches taller, and he sinks to his knees, shit, shit, shit, oh shit, then fumbles in his camo for his cell and I laugh, you idiot, you fucking know you can’t get a signal this side of the mountain, but he jabs at the stupid buttons anyway, and then Pa grasps my fingers, odd because he’s never held my hand and he’s dead ten years anyway, and he says with his eyes, it’s time to go, and below spins green and white, this brilliant heat fills me, and I turn to Pa and say, hey it’s true what they say on those tv shows, those people who die and come back, and when he smiles I know I’m dead and it’s okay this peace falls over me, a kind of grace I feel after I mow the hayfield all sweaty and happy, and when I think of Marisa, the swell of her belly, and I wait for the tug, the one that yanks me back to Dave blubbering over me in the cold bloody snow, I wait and wait, but Pa grips me harder and…

***

Inspired by the 52-250 Flash-a-Year Challenge: floating away. And by the bio television series I Survived -- Beyond and Back about folks who die, then return to describe their experiences. Evidence of an afterlife? Or merely the barrage of neurotransmitters shooting off in your brain as your body shuts down?

Who knows. And who cares? All I know is their stories reassure me about death. Comfort me. Peace, Linda

I love that you used stream of consciousness to write this because it captured that "life-flashes-before-your eyes" phenomenon that usually happens to us during tragic events. I found this piece oddly peaceful and reassuring. The father holding his hand, the feeling of being sweaty and happy, the knowledge that he's not alone on the other side. Very cool that you could capture that all in just a few words.

Maybe I'm just tired this morning and am unable to come up with suitable comments (all true!) but I am blown away by your story and cannot find words that won't be trite. So please know I love this, for many reasons.

So many styles of writing this week! Your stream of consciousness is very effective given your character's situation. I'd imagine being between life and death and knowing it would sound something like that in my head. Very different and very good.

A nerve on fire...

Where I Hang

About Me...

By day, I'm an uptight and proper academic - you know, a publish or perish type who resides in tall towers with the likes of Rapunzul. In the evening, I morph into a lovable mom and wife, play with my children, hang with the hubby.
But when darkness falls and the house stills, I write.